Oct 27, 2014

I have been out of the Yoga loop for a good six months now. Before I
left my studio and mat, I was an avid and dedicated practitioner of
Ashtanga Yoga: I had a regular, six day a week practice, had completed
150 hours of Yoga teacher training as well as a massage and injury
prevention certificate, was an assistant teacher and wrote a popular
enough Yoga blog. I was a vegetarian at first, then a vegan, and in the
middle of developing an interest in macrobiotic cuisine. I was part of a
dedicated community and a student of a well-known teacher. I even found
myself a Yoga teaching husband. I thought that whatever would happen, I
would do Yoga.

And then, weirdly, happiness happened. And by
happiness, I mean the kind of contentment that will let you rest and
relax. Calmness and ease unfolded, and I started seeing my daily
practice in a different light. Here are some of my thoughts:

Ashtanga Yoga is a relationship outside of your relationship

It
has become my conviction that anyone who practices Ashtanga
religiously, and by that I mean six days a week, all year, every year,
is missing something vital in their personal life. These people - and I
know I was one of them for a long time - are looking for something they
will not find on their Manduka mats. Ever.

Exercising on more than four days a week is unhealthy

Studies like this one
show that exercising on six days a week for a prolonged period of time
is actually detrimental to your health. Every health professional, coach
and personal trainer on the face of the earth would agree. No wonder
Ashtangis look skinny and tired and hurt themselves all the time.

There is no wisdom in practicing through injuries

No
wisdom at all. When you are injured, you need to rest, and probably
anti-inflammatories. Surely you can stretch your legs while dealing
with a wrist injury, but you should definitely not put any weight on
your hands. Again, any health professional would agree. You only have
one right knee, one left shoulder, one set of lower back vertebrae.
There is a reason why doctors suggest you should rest. There is also mass
intelligence. If Ashtanga really had all the answers, everyone on the
face of the earth would be doing it. Guaranteed. You are the only expert
on your condition, and if something hurts, you are telling yourself to
hold off.

Ashtangarexia is alive and happening

The definition of addiction, as I have recently learned during one of Emory University’s online lectures on coursera,
is: “A repeated behavior with a negative impact (causing distress of
some sort or health problems, for example), where you are unable to
stop, require an increased frequency or dosage, and display symptoms of
withdrawal avoidance.”

Now, I don’t know about you guys, but
after a certain point in my practice, I could check off all of these
indicators. I had lower back problems, the pressure to maintain my daily
practice caused distress, but I wasn’t able to stop, either, because I
was too afraid of taking a day off and losing all the ‘progress’ I had
made. The fact that my practice had turned me a into an ascetic hermit
without a real social life wasn’t even something I worried about at the
time. With hindsight, however, some of what you say and do as an
Ashtangi really is a bit cuckoo. I mean, let’s not kid ourselves: You
can’t balance your chakras by chanting mantras in a language you don’t
speak. Eating garlic when you’re healthy doesn’t make you a bad person.
Be kind to yourself. Don’t fall into the rabbit hole of Ashtanga
obsession, only to never be seen again.

If you know you have an issue Yoga cannot solve, seek help

Very
maybe, you are trying to work through some intense trauma. Perhaps your
upbringing was terrible, or maybe you suffer from an eating disorder
nobody knows of. Yoga can have amazing positive effects on our mental
health, but there are certain situations in life that point you towards
professional help. Both you and your teacher need to admit that while
Supta Kurmasana might release day-to-day stress, it’s not at all an
adequate treatment for PTSD. Neither are shopping sprees at lululemon.

Authorization equals a frequent flyer reward

This
is a line my husband came up with, and he is so right. These days, it
seems, what you have to do to get recognized as a teacher is go to
Mysore often enough (read: pay enough money), and someone will bestow
upon you the reward in form of authorization. This is irrespective, of
course, of your level of experience or teaching skills. On average, if
I’m not mistaken, authorization will be granted after four or five trips
of several months each, at a monthly cost of €400 or so. There are so
many students going through the shala these days, that Sharath himself
can’t keep track anymore. I have heard of people who were offered
authorization twice. Not for free, of course, the authorization itself
comes at a price. Later, there’s the added cost of certification, and
psssst, it’s expensive. While I understand that everyone needs to make
money, a hierarchical fee scheme seems pretty… unyogic.

The tradition isn’t evolving, it’s arbitrary

Sunday
as the new Saturday? Changes in the sequence just so that the student
traffic in Mysore can be handled more efficiently? Come on! No problem
with making changes to your own organization, but why does the whole
world need to follow? If you are serious about your Yoga, you will not
brag about what pose you’re on, how many trips to Mysore you have taken
in the past, how many you will be taking in the future, or how many
people came to take your class on any given day. On that same note:

Teaching Yoga isn’t a profession - it’s a side job

I
have been warned about this, and I will do my duty and warn you: Do.
Not. Quit. Your. Occupation. For. An. Unlikely. Career. In. Yoga. Don’t
do it! Yoga is like blogging. It is something that is best enjoyed in
small, fun doses on the side. Unless you will be moving to a town where
there is not a single Yoga teacher within a radius of at least 50
kilometers, do not open a Yoga studio. You will be losing all your
money, and you will be left with no perspective after 35. Do yourself a
favor and trust me on this one.

So - do I miss my practice?
Sure, sometimes I do. What I miss about it most are its superficial
aspects, though: being strong and flexible, looking fit. These days, I
prefer to take my dog on forest walks and go for runs. I enjoy the fresh
air, and that I get to make my own schedule. When I will return to the
mat, it will be on my own terms, in my own time.

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